The Possibility of Us
by brie3887
Summary: AU-Francis and Mary's friendship has always been something more than they were willing to acknowledge. Multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

_Dwell in possibility- Emily Dickinson_

They were walking back from the restaurant with friends. The crowd was loud, filled with deep laughs and giggles. Mary held onto Francis's arms, as usual, hoping he'd steady her slightly buzzed demeanor. Every once in a while, his hand would slide to her lower back, helping her over a fading puddle or high curb. "I don't get it." One of their mutual friends started. "Why is it you two aren't together?" Mary rolled her eyes and looked over at Francis who was giving her a grin. Typical, she thought.

"Luke, listen. We're just not a dateable pair." Mary replied. Francis chuckled. Luke shook his head, as did his girlfriend. "People just need to accept that we're not going to date." Mary said firmly.

"Don't say that." Francis responded softly. Mary's face showed surprise and she laughed.

"Aww Francy," She said rubbing his chest. He smiled at her. She was almost even with his height in her tall heels. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I love you." She said sloppily. He nodded it back to her and urged her to come on.

When they were alone in his car, she cuddled up to him. It wasn't unusual for the two to be physically close; they had been friends since they were five. Their summers and holidays had been spent together; they even attended the same college. Yet, their relationship had remained a tight friendship. "Francis?"

"Hmm?" He looked down at her curled up form, her legs drawn tight to her body, her arms wrapped around his. He couldn't help but cherish these moments, when she was close to him, and they could be themselves around each other.

"What did you mean when you said 'Don't say that.'"

"From when?" He asked. She pushed away from him and sat up. He watched her brush back her hair and rub an eye.

"From before, when Luke asked why we weren't together." Francis remembered with a nod.

"I don't know. I just think never say never." He offered.

"About us?" Mary asked crinkling her brow. "You and me?" Francis shrugged. She studied him as he turned away and looked out the window. Was he hurt by what she said, she wondered.

"I just think we don't know what the future holds."

"Do you want to be together?" She asked quickly, her body moving closer to his in anticipation of his answer. This was a conversation they had shared prior, perhaps after a night of drunken sex in college. She shook her head, trying to forget the night she hardly remembered, but flashes of their evening zipped through her mind: the tumble of their limbs on his small dorm bed, her head accidentally hitting his nightstand when she fell accidentally out of bed, and then him on top of her kissing her bruised ego and forehead. He turned from the window and looked at her upturned face, studying her brown eyes and red full lips. They always looked as if they needed to be kissed, pouty and begging for attention.

"I don't know Mary." He shook his head and turned away again. The car pulled to a stop. "We're at your place." He gestured and thankful the conversation to be over. His driver opened the door, but she hesitated still watching him.

"You'll text me tomorrow?" She asked softly. He broke into a smile and leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Her eyes closed in appreciation.

"Of course. Don't I always?" She smiled. "Get some sleep." She slipped out of the door and waved as she entered her building.

When she entered her apartment, she leaned back against the door as it closed. Francis was kind, gentle - she stopped her thinking. Was she going to say family? Her mind was cloudy from alcohol, and without his calming form for her to mold to she wasn't so steady in her thoughts. A sudden irritation washed over her of the entire conversation she just had. What did he mean never say never? What was that? She slammed her keys on the counter and went to make herself another drink, slamming cabinets on her way. Greer and Kenna both came out of their bedrooms looking sleepy.

"What's up, Mary?" Kenna asked sliding onto one of their barstools. Mary shrugged and didn't answer.

"Mary?" Greer asked. Mary took a swallow of her drink and set the glass down. She threw her hands out.

"Francis!" The girls looked at her expectantly. "He's so stupid. I just don't get him." Kenna and Greer eyed each other. This wasn't the first time Mary and Francis had a fight; they fought often like brother and sister. "I mean he says never say never to dating me. I mean what is that?"

"What?" Kenna probed.

"Luke asked why Francis and I don't date. I said because we're not dateable." She drank. "He says, 'Don't say that.' " She sends an irritated look toward her friends. "What the hell does that mean? 'Don't say that.' " She repeated with an eye roll. She drank again.

"Mary, maybe –" Greer started.

"No," Mary held up her index finger. "He and I have been friends forever; now he's going to go ruin it with words? Please." She dropped her glass in the sink and stomped off to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Greer sighed and Kenna rolled her eyes.

The next morning, Mary pulled her hung over frame out of bed, dressed and readied for work. Glancing at her clock, she knew Francis would be pulling up soon, and her doorman would be sending a call to her apartment. When she left her bedroom, Greer and Kenna were sitting at the kitchen table. "Ooh girl, what the heck happened to you?" Kenna said with a laugh. Mary stood before her, clutch purse under arm, briefcase in the other, and wide Jackie-O glasses already in place. "Is it bright in here?" Greer added.

"Shut up." Mary said. "I need coffee." The girls laughed. Her phone went off and she rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "That would be Francis." She huffed and started for the door. "See you later."

In the car, Francis was on his phone, but upon her entrance, he looked up and said good morning. She grumbled something as she put her seatbelt on. "Here." He handed her a coffee and a paper bag. "It's a pork roll egg and cheese bagel. I figured you'd need it." She scoffed.

"Was I that drunk?" She asked sarcastically pulling the bagel out.

"No, well, I mean now that I'm looking at you, you are wearing your sunglasses…in the car." She whipped them off dramatically rolling her eyes. "Were you that drunk last night?" He asked second guessing himself.

"I may have had another drink when I got home, and then I couldn't sleep."

"Ahh…"He said, turning back to his phone. She watched him for a moment while eating her bagel.

"You're coming with us right? To the Berkshires?" He sent a mumbled "yes" her way. "It should be fun. I love being up in the cabin during fall." He didn't respond, so she kept talking. "We can go hiking, and maybe even take the canoe out if it's a warmer day." He was so absorbed in his phone. "Are you ignoring me?" She asked.

"What?" He said quickly, glancing at her. "I'm sorry; I have to send these emails. It's work." He turned back to his phone and she observed him, nodding silently. She wondered if his preoccupation had anything to do with the previous night's discussion – or maybe he just had to work. She rolled her eyes, dropped her sunglasses back on her face, and bit into her bagel. It was going to be one hell of a day.

**A/N: I was inspired by the interview between Toby and Adelaide, in which Adelaide mentioned that everyone wanted them to date. She remarked it just wasn't going to happen, and Toby's response was something like "Don't say that." It was in their exchange that I thought of the idea for this fic. Please note that I do respect them as actors, and only use the moment of the interview as inspiration for Mary and Francis. I, in no way, am a Tobelaide shipper. In this fic, Mary is perhaps more the reckless or irrational version of herself. Francis again painted as sensible, protective, and loving. I have more chapters written which need refining before being posted. I do not own any part of Reign, and reviews are always welcome. :)  
**


	2. Chapter 2

The Berkshires were a quaint and nestled away country region. A place Mary and her friends had been going since they started college. While they took the annual trip to the Caribbean or Europe, they also needed a relaxing fall vacation. The Berkshires were just the place to be.

Bash, Kenna's boyfriend and Francis's brother, pulled their large SUV up to the rental home. The crew clamored out finally rid of the long card ride.

"This is beautiful." Greer remarked flanked by Mary and Kenna. They admired the dark red converted barn.

"Yeah, and the lake is just back there, can you see it?" They twisted their necks to follow Kenna's direction and saw a glimpse of the lake in the backyard.

"Hey girls, we could use some help." Bash called from behind the SUV. Kenna rolled her eyes, Greer groaned, and Mary couldn't help but laugh. She linked her arms through theirs and strutted them back to the SUV. One by one their luggage was unloaded. Mary waited patiently, knowing hers was at the back. Leith, Greer's boyfriend, helped her as did Sebastian, and finally it was just her and Francis left as the others trudged up the steps to the house. He pulled her luggage out.

"Jeez Mary, what did you pack?"

"Bricks." She answered simply as he lugged the suitcase onto the ground. He stopped and stared at her for a second. "I'm kidding." She said with a grin and punched him lightly in the arm. "Come on. Lighten up." He shook his head. She'd be remiss if she didn't wonder why he had been avoiding her the past week. They barely spoke to each other. It wasn't as if they had been down this road before – busy with work and unable to communicate, but for some reason Mary felt it was more than just a preoccupied mind. He wasn't his usual self, at least not with her. She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and other bag and started to haul them away.

"Here wait, I'll help you get that up the steps." He said throwing his own duffle bag over his shoulder and making his way over to her.

"It's okay." She answered. He stopped her at the steps and gave her a look. "Francis, it's okay."

"Mary, don't be so stubborn. I'm not letting you carry it up the steps yourself." His hand was out, waiting for her to surrender the bag, which she did, and he without groaning, lugged it up the stone steps.

"Okay, so if you don't mind, Bash and I will take the upstairs bedroom, Greer and Leith, you'll be down here, and Mary and Francis we figured you'd be okay in the third? It has bunk beds and a full size. Is that okay?" Everyone agreed.

* * *

Mary was quietly working to empty her clothes into the closet, as Francis set up his own things in the dresser. She wasn't used to silence. He came around the door, holding a blazer and some dress pants.

"Got room for this?" She looked up from where she was kneeling on the floor. He was leaning casually against the door jamb, watching her, grinning.

"Of course." He stepped around her, and she felt a sharp chill race up her spine. He moved some her things over and added his hanger. He stepped around her again and started to leave the walk-in closet. "Is this how it's going to be?" He stopped, turned, and looked at her. "Like we're two strangers sleeping in the same room?" He crossed his arms, again watching her put clothes on hangers, move things around. "I don't get it." She looked up. There they were, he thought, those brown eyes, looking up at him. The eyes he had always found so impossible to resist. Like when she begged him to go skinny dipping in the lake three years ago, or when she wanted to sneak out of his parents' house all those summers before. The brown eyes that he could read so easily. She sighed and he watched her shoulders droop. "You're obviously avoiding me." She said softly. Her eyes looked away for second down at the sweater in her hands.

"I am not." It was a quick response. Something to end the conversation he really didn't want to have. And then there was the look, the one that told him she knew he was avoiding her. The look that said, "I've got you all figured out Francis Valois." He rolled his eyes. "Mary, I'm just tired – work has been hard all week, and I just want to relax."

"Okay." She responded quietly. He groaned and rolled his eyes again. He squatted down in front of her, lifted her chin with the tip of his finger, drawing her eyes to his own. Dangerous territory, he was thinking. He shouldn't be touching her, not when he had been trying to avoid her. She looked at him waiting expectantly.

"Listen, I'm exhausted. It's not you. I'm glad we're here; we always have fun in the Berkshires. Okay?" She nodded. "Okay. I'm going to go take a nap by the lake. Come get me for dinner?" She agreed. "Don't take up too much space." He added as he left. Mary cracked a smile; she hoped he was just tired, and that she had not hurt him.

* * *

Francis sat casually around the fire, listening to Bash and Leith talk about work. He fingered the fading condensation on his cold beer and listened as Kenna and Greer interjected every once and while. The sliding door shut, and there was Mary. Her hands wrapped tightly around her torso, holding her sweatshirt close to her body. She slid back into the chair next to Francis, and he glanced over at her. She smiled back. Her face reflected the fire, and he handed her his beer to sip, which she took silently. She passed it back, and lifted her hood up over her head, burrowing deeper into her lawn chair, drawing her knees up to her chest. The fire was mesmerizing to her, and she felt herself growing tired quickly. She tried to participate in the conversation, but Francis could clearly see her exhaustion. He leaned close to her and whispered that she should go to bed if she was tired, but she refused. And slowly, one by one each of the other two couples meandered off back to the house, leaving Francis and Mary alone.

Francis stood up and finished the last drops of his beer. "Come on." He said holding his hand out. Mary didn't budge, but groaned a response. "Come on, Mary. You know you're tired." She peeked her head out of the hoodie.

"I don't want to sleep." Francis rolled his eyes. "Can we go to the lake?" She asked. He started to shake his head, but she squealed a please out, and he couldn't resist. She took his hand, and they walked to the back of the property where the lake met the land. He helped her climb onto the rocks sitting around the edge of the lake. They took a seat next to each other. Mary drew her knees up to her chest and stared out at the water. "Why is it that you take such good care of me?" She asked in the darkness.

"Because." Francis responded. He shrugged. "I love you, you know that. We've always taken care of each other Mary, since we were kids. It's the way we are." She scooted her body close to his, leaning her head on his should. He wrapped his arms around her, and felt home.

"Francis?"

"Yes?"

"I do love us and the relationship we have." She said softly.

* * *

They had woken up together; Mary's body wrapped around Francis's, her haphazard form a dead weight on his own body. When he had untangled them, slowly, careful not to wake her, he found himself needing to disappear. So he set off on the a path running off the feeling he didn't quite want to acknowledge. He remembered the way her cheeks were flushed, probably from the warmth in the early morning sunlight, and how her lips were slightly parted. Francis wiped his brow as he ran. Damn, she looked good in the morning, he thought. Her hair had been in a messy bun tickling his face as her own was burrowed deep into his neck. Thank goodness she was a heavy sleeper; it was easy for him to slip out of the room. He stopped in a clearing and bent over to catch his breath. What was he going to do about her? He heart beat wildly in his chest, partly from his exercise and partly from her. The way she had convinced him to crawl into bed with her instead of sleep alone drove him insane. She had whined, he rolled his eyes, and she whined, tugging on his hand with impish smile. It was his weakness. And if she was his weakness, then he would need to be stronger. To Mary, he thought, they were undateable. He shook his head and took off running again. Perhaps the solution would come to him after a long, long run.

Instead of a solution, he watched her with Kenna and Greer prance around the kitchen in their makeshift aprons making pancakes, omelets, and whatever else they could gather for their boys – Kenna's words. Mary was bossing the girls around telling them what to do and when. She stood next to Greer, showing her the correct way to flip the pancake, and he felt amusement in her instructions. The pancake ended up on the floor, and they fell apart in laughter. He couldn't help but smile.

The guys sipped their coffee after breakfast out on the patio in the cool fall air, and his mind often wandered to Mary, and what she was doing inside with the girls.

"We'll probably be here all day." Leith countered to something Bash had said. "I can totally see Greer getting all worked up over what to wear hiking." Bash chuckled.

"Kenna will have her sweats on." Bash added. They looked to Francis and he was shaken out of his thoughts of how he and Mary tumbled softly into the full sized bed the previous night.

"What?" He asked. The guys laughed.

"We're talking about what the girls were doing – you know taking forever to get dressed."

"Oh."

"You know Francis, sometimes I feel like we just consider you and Mary together. Don't you think, Bash?" Leith questioned. Bash nodded. Francis sucked in a breath and turned away. "What is the deal, anyway?" Shoulders shrugged, Francis sipped his coffee.

"Francis probably doesn't even know." Bash offered.

"She's my best friend. It's simple, and no one understands it." Bash shook his head, and Leith furrowed his brow.

"Come on, man. We all know it's more than that. I'm your brother; I know it's more than that."

"Let me ask you something." Leith leaned forward. Francis gestured to allow him. "Have you slept together?" Francis smirked.

"We have slept in the same bed; we do often when we travel." Leith laughed.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. And the answer is yes."

"What?" Bash jumped in. "When?" Francis shrugged again.

"Does it really matter? Does anything that goes on between Mary and I matter? Our relationship doesn't affect all of you. Come on, it's no one's business and I –" The girls tumbled out of the sliding door and posed declaring their presence. Francis breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have the conversation interrupted and hopefully over. Kenna slipped into Bash's lap asking if it was time to leave. Mary took Francis's coffee cup asking if she could finish it. He nodded silently. It was so easy to be next to her.

On their hike, Mary split her time between Francis and the girls. At one point, the other couples had gone on ahead, and Francis was helping Mary over a large fallen tree. She enjoyed holding his hand, and feeling the pressure of his other hand on the small of her back. They kept trudging through the forest.

"Here," He nudged her to a stop, and she turned to him holding the small wildflower out to her.

"Pour moi?" Mary said sweetly throwing her palm to her chest.

"Oui Mademoiselle." Francis responded with a small bow. Mary laughed and smelled the flower's fragrance.

"Oh la la." She winked at him. "Good thing your mother insisted on those French lessons."

"Yes, I agree. That tutor was hot." Francis said with a smirk. He felt the smack against his stomach and air left his mouth. "What was that for?" He asked. Mary just shook her head. They fell in step with each other again as they continued on the path.

"You left this morning. Did you run?" She asked softly looking down, watching her steps. He noticed the change in her tone.

"Yeah." He responded.

"Thanks for last night."

"For what?" he stopped and faced her. She shrugged.

"I don't know. Just being close, being my friend." She almost noticed a slight twitch in his eye, as if the friend comment had bruised his heart. She squeezed his hand. "You mean everything to me." She leaned up and kissed his cheek, but he quickly turned his lips towards hers, catching them instead. Mary allowed Francis to kiss her in the dim light of the forest. She reached her hand up to his cheek, and then pulled away.

"What was that for?" She asked.

"For being my friend." He said with a smirk. She slapped his chest and laughed. "Come on, let's catch up; they'll think the worst." He dragged her body a little and she fell in line next to him. Mary looked up at him as they walked a wide smile on her face. She was happy, she was happy here, next to him.


	3. Chapter 3

It had happened again. He had let it happen again. These thoughts kept rolling through his mind while the group reminisced about the past week. They hung in his brain, as a noose strangling and controlling his thinking.

Francis sat in the front seat of the SUV, as far away from Mary as possible. It was repulsion and disgust that he had felt, not for her, but maybe a slight bit for himself. Not regret, no he could never regret being with her. He could, however, regret allowing himself to fall into the same situation. It had happened so easily, and he could blame the alcohol, but he knew they both had been aware enough to know what they were doing. His cell phone vibrated. He looked down slowly at the name on the screen, "My Mary." If there had been different circumstances, her label, of her own doing, in his contacts may have made him smile. He viewed the text.

"I'm sorry." For what he thought? Did she even know? Another text flashed across the scene. "If I hurt you, I am sorry. I thought this was what you wanted too." He felt his heart beat a little faster at her oblivion of the situation. Was she really that ignorant? Or was she thinking purely about last night? He didn't bother to reply; it wasn't worth getting into while they were miles a part in a vehicle. He leaned his head back against the seat and thought about the previous night.

_The previous evening:_

"Another shot!" Mary yelled leaning up over the bar. The bartender smiled at her from his own perch. From his place behind her, Francis watched the too friendly bartender tend to Mary's needs. She happily obliged too friendly herself. Already drunk, Francis had thought, and she knew it. She shoved a shot glass in his hand, urging him to down it. He shook his head, but then there were those eyes, the lips, and the look. And so he took it. She sent him a wink, her telltale sign the he was in trouble.

The shots came and went multiple times. In between her drinks, he found himself steadying her or holding her small frame when she'd lean into him flirtatiously. But her flirtations were being passed like shots, first, with the older gentlemen at the bar. Mary modeled one of their cowboy hats while showing off a quick two-step move. They applauded her, and Francis grimaced. After she danced with Kenna and Greer in the striking lights on the dance floor, he saw her in the arms of some prep, popped collar and all. Jealousy and over protectiveness grew within him. It wasn't long before she was in his arms, and the night began to blend for Francis: cue another shot, another drink, another of anything. Each time it brought her closer to him. Pretty soon he was piggy-backing her giggling form up the steps of the rental and trying to help her undress for bed.

Mary tipsily fumbled with her buttons. She was giggling and begging for his help, her bottom lip out. While he helped her, her fingers played along the edge of his waistband, slipping in and out from under his t-shirt. Under her navy flannel was her black lace bra, one he had seen before, not too long ago he thought. She dropped her arms and her fingers went to her tight skinny jeans undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. Francis stepped back giving her privacy. He went to find her pajamas in the closet, leaving her to shimmy out of her jeans, and then only to find her in the closet with him. He was thinking this was going to be a bad idea, but he knew them both too well. She was drunk, he was also drunk, and here they were together – her partly dressed, he trying desperately to hold it together. It wasn't going to end well. The outcome was always the same.

Her lips were raised to his, and it was in her eyes that he saw Mary, his Mary. Not the woman who had drank too much, not the friend, but the woman he had loved for so long. He studied her, focusing in his thick fog of inebriation. He gently brushed back a strand of hair that had slipped in front of her eyes, admiring the delicateness of her skin and the sprinkling of freckles. Her lips were waiting his attention, to which he gave them due service. Her own arms wrapped themselves around him as he pulled her to him. And there it was, this feeling of relief, the relief that that she was here in his arms and not someone else's.

And so the next morning, they were naked once again under the covers, and he felt slight regret. Not from being with her, that was never the issue. It was from not being able to have her completely – to lack the label of her being his. When he awoke and saw her sleeping form, he only felt as if he had made a mistake in allowing the two of them to fall deeper into the chasm of not defining what they were. It bothered him that he was bothered. Why should he even care? She wasn't with other men, so essentially they were exclusive, but she neglected to agree to a label. It shouldn't bother him, he had thought. But it did. So for the first time, instead of their usual friendly banter during the morning after, he was silent. Now he sat in the front seat talking to his brother about some future fishing expedition.

Greer was texting her, silently wanting to know what the obvious tension was in the car. But not Francis. She had texted him, and he had not replied. She knew he had his phone out because she just saw him show Bash a picture. It hurt her to know that she could have possibly hurt him worse, but she didn't fully understand. Well, she also knew that wasn't true, she actually did understand. Her mind drifted back to the previous night.

_The previous night:_

Maybe for the first night, even with the drinking, Mary was lucid enough to know what she was doing with Francis. She knew he would give in, they would sleep together, and she would get her fix. It wasn't her game to manipulate him, although it certainly appeared that way. No, playing with him was not her. She simply loved him and often she asked herself what the problem was. What exactly did she fear if they were together? Losing him. That was her fear. But now, as she leaned over the bar, calling for another shot, she knew he'd be there when they got home when she was too drunk to get herself to bed, when he was too drunk to put up a fight. She knew he'd give in because he loved and wanted her too. But this time the result had not been good. They had spent the last few days together, enjoying each other's company. He had even forgone sleeping in a separate bed and yet, she felt tremendous guilt for having screwed it up.

Before they had packed to leave, Francis had been withdrawn even cold. He did not utter any words to her all morning, and found a way to avoid her during breakfast and even when packing their things. She knew something was wrong, and guessed it was because of her. At the same time, she wondered how that could be true? They had been down this road before and had woken up just fine.

Mary stared out of the window of the moving SUV. Francis seemed so far away in the front seat, talking to Bash and everyone else. Their communication had halted at the packing of the SUV.

_Earlier that morning:_

"Thanks." Mary said as Francis helped her reload her luggage. He didn't respond, but started to walk away. "Hey!" She said sharply. He turned around. "What is your problem exactly?" She threw her arms out wide. "Hmm?" He shook his head in irritation. "Don't you dare walk away from me." Mary called, her voice beginning to rise. He spun back on his heel and stalked toward her.

"You. You are my problem." His gestures were wide and explosive to her. "We're friends, then we're not, then we are, then we're not." His voice was tight. "I don't know where we stand."

"What are you even talking about? We're right here! I'm right here!" She said beginning to shout.

"But what are we, Mary?" His voice rose. "Am I your friend? Because friends don't hold hands and kiss in the forest, friends don't sit by the lake in each other's arms or fall asleep holding each other. And friends certainly don't do what we did last night." He paused, his face close. His voice lowered. "Is that what friends do, Mary? Do they kiss you down the length of your body slowly? Do they know exactly the spot, your spot; the one when kissed that causes you to fall to pieces? Do they please you to the point of combustion?" Heat drew its way up her neck, spreading crimson across her chest. Her fists bawled at her side, not in anger, but in something that was a sweet mix of both desire and fury. "So what is this?" He pointed to them. She crossed her arms taking a deep breath, calming her nerves.

"You know how I feel." She stated tightly.

"Yes, you love me, but you're scared. I know, I know." He rolled his eyes, his tone mocking. "Well I can't do it anymore." His voice dropped. "I can't share my sweatshirts or my drinks, my bed, or my heart anymore."

"What does that mean?" She asked stepping toward him.

"I'm not sure. I guess that I can't do this with you anymore." He left her standing by the SUV, holding her stomach feeling nauseous. She felt like someone was ripping her heart out and allowing it to leave with someone else. That someone else who was now walking away from her.


	4. Chapter 4

_It is the possibility of us that rests in_

_the sultry air._

_It hangs suspended in the spaces_

_between our bodies_

_clinging deliciously to our skin._

-Excerpt from an original poem

Two weeks had passed since the Berkshires and had not spoken to Francis. Life had gone on; work became her partner, as she devoted her time there instead of thinking about him. If she did go out with their friends, he was never there. Apparently, his father had bestowed on him a new client that was extremely important. They didn't ride to work together anymore, eat breakfast, walk home from the bar together; there was no Mary and Francis. No one need question the definition of their relationship because it no longer existed.

When she entered the restaurant after work, she quickly found her girlfriends. Their greetings aside, a pinot noir ordered, she finally relaxed. "So the guys are coming?" Mary asked smoothing down her suit skirt.

"Well yeah, Bash and Leith. They should be here for dinner." Greer answered.

"Not Francis?" Kenna shook her head. Mary rolled her eyes. The girls knew the situation and were divided in their opinions of it.

"Bash says he's taking a client out to dinner." There were the eyebrows, high and questioning. Kenna shrugged, and Mary continued to question. "Yes, it's a woman. She's the client's daughter."

"Really?" Mary said with a sarcastic chuckle.

"Mary, how can you be upset by this?" Greer asked.

"Me? I'm not upset." Greer and Kenna shared a glance. "He can be with who he wants. We're not together and we never have been. End of story."

"But-" Greer.

"No buts. I'm going to get out of here." She grabbed her bag. "Tell the boys I said hello. Love you both." They echoed the sentiment and Mary left.

When Francis turned up later at the restaurant, Kenna and Greer shared surprise. He quickly explained that his dinner meeting had been cancelled, and therefore wanted to spend some time with his friends.

"Where's Mary?" He asked. Greer looked at Kenna.

"She was here earlier, but went home."

"Oh." Francis remarked looking disappointed. "Okay." He didn't stick around long either. This was uncharted waters for them. Yes, they had fought and been distant before, but their friends had never truly felt the cold front of their small estrangements. This was different. It was as if the golden era was ending, the Mary and Francis era was over.

* * *

She knew she was late, but Mary was always late, and it was a party, so who really cared. Francis's family was throwing their annual gala for charity and she was going. It would be disrespectful to his mother to turn down the invitation, especially because of her and Francis. So here she was, dolled up in her red gown, striding into the gala alone.

She found her friends. Kenna whispered something about a new blonde, the client's daughter and also Francis's date. Mary scanned to find her. She was certainly blonde and beautiful.

It was at the bar that she finally saw Francis. He was leaning over the top in his pressed tuxedo waiting for his drink.

"You used to bring me to these events, you know." She said quietly and with a smirk. He was startled by her, but sent her a genuine smile. They leaned in to kiss each other on the cheek. "You're beautiful." He said admiring her. "Red, my favorite color for you."

"I know." Mary looked over at Francis's date. "She's beautiful too." Francis nodded.

"Her name is Olivia."

"Ah, Olivia." Mary sipped her drink.

"She's not you." Mary looked up at his calm remark: a line of defeat, a statement of truth.

"Good." She said satisfaction playing across her lips. Olivia didn't need to be her; it was best that she wasn't. She turned to leave. "I wish you all the best Francy." She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Walking away from him was harder than she thought. Although, they hadn't spoken, and although their relationship had never really been defined beyond a friendship, they both knew it was more than that. She hated that she felt it was her fault that even their friendship was gone. And now, she felt as if she was walking away from him forever. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Walking away from Francis may be the hardest thing she'd have to do for a long time.

The end of the night came quickly, with Mary and Francis spending little time near each other. She every so often glanced in his direction, watching him charm clients and family friends. He too found his eyes drifting through the room to find her. Each time she was grinning or laughing about something, and it only made him detest the gulf that separated them. Olivia was beautiful, but she was not Mary. Mary was the best of everything. She was equal parts uptown girl, ready to lean on his arm, hold his hand, be his beautiful supporter at any event, and also the girl who begged for his over-sized Giants jersey to wear with her black leggings when they watched the game. She was as easy as a walk in Central Park and as difficult as a Fifth Avenue traffic jam. In her goofy antics he could find himself rolling his eyes, and in her tears his lips were so quick to gently kiss them away. It was Mary that would distract him during important events in which they needed to be serious, and Mary who challenged him to anything. That was it. She challenged him, she was the same and different at once. He quickly realized it was always the constant of Mary that he wanted. Although, she had always been the problem, pushing him away, perhaps it was up to him to resolve that problem.

It was pouring torrentially outside the venue, and Mary huddled with Greer and Leith under the awning as they waited for their drivers.

"I cannot believe this weather." Mary commented. She shivered in the slight fall breeze. She had forgotten a coat and probably should be in the vestibule instead of outside. Leith had already wrapped his jacket over Greer.

"Hey." Mary turned to see Francis's tall frame greeting Leith and Greer. "What are you guys doing out here?"

"Waiting." Greer said with an eye roll.

"In the rain?" He asked looking at Mary.

"Some people like the rain Francis." She shot back with a smile, and he knew her again, unpredictable and challenging. It would be her that would make a smart remark back.

"Where's Olivia?" Leith asked. Francis shrugged.

"She left already." Mary caught his stare and bit her lip, averting her eyes. Greer saw the exchange between the two of them.

"Look Leith, our car! Let's go! Night you two." She ushered Leith off quickly, leaving Mary and Francis alone. Silence hung between them, and Mary felt herself grinning at the thought they had nothing and yet everything to say to each other.

"You're unbelievable." Francis said softly looking out into the glow of the city lights.

"Me?" She laughed. "What did I do now?" He shook his head.

"Nothing, Mary." He paused. "You never had to do anything, but be who you are." She turned to face him.

"I don't understand."

"I know. I know." It was his turn to chuckle. "You don't understand that everything about you is what I love." Her eyes widened. "I love that you lean on me when you've been drinking. I love that you always want me to kiss you goodnight, on the lips, not the cheek. I love that you want me as your friend. I love that you make me chocolate chip cookies and bring them to my apartment at midnight, and that you are grumpy in the morning when we go to work. All of that I love." He lightly grabbed her shoulders. "I especially love that you resist me time and time again, because it only proves how much more I need to fight for you." Mary's mouth dropped open. "Do you understand? Pushing me away only makes me love you more because you are it for me Mary. We can fight every day for the rest of our lives, make love, and fight again, but I will still love you." Mary studied him in his fury of words tumbling out to her. "I don't just want a friendship; I want the friendship and more. I want all of you." She wasn't sure what she should do because there were no words to say. He only repeated what her heart had been telling her for their entire life of knowing each other. Her hands found the collar of his tux, and he studied her as she adjusted his lapel, running her fingers down the edges.

"So," She started. "Are you saying that you want to be my boyfriend?" It was a coy question, and he immediately knew her impish grin was meant to bring some light to the situation. He didn't respond, instead his arms gathered her up and he brought her lips to his. They kissed. They kissed as if it was their first time and their last, as if they had not seen each other in centuries, as if their bodies were made to fit together.

When he pulled away, her arms still hung around his neck and they were breathless. He leaned his forehead against hers. "Is this end of our romantic comedy then? The one where the two people stand in the rain realizing they've always loved each other?" She asked. He had to roll his eyes at her. The smile played along her lips, and those brown eyes looked back up at him.

"It isn't the end Mary." He nudged her nose softly. "Will you be my girlfriend?" He asked with a smile. She nodded, her own smile spreading. "No more of this push and pull?" She shook her head no.

"No." She said softly. "You're all mine, and I am all yours." She leaned up and kissed him again. His hands clasped her face in their kiss, and when they broke he held her face close to his.

"Do you mean it?"

"I mean it." She said. "I mean it forever." He sighed letting out a breath. "Were you worried?" She asked with a grin.

"A little." She kissed him again and again and again.

"Does this mean you'll be picking me up again for work?" She spoke against his lips. He laughed pulling away.

"It means we'll be leaving my apartment together for work, okay?" She nodded, and found his lips again. Francis was happy knowing she was in his arms. Even though he knew she had always truly been his, he could finally feel it resting easy in his arms.

The End

**A/N Just wanted to say thanks for all of the reviews! It is nice to hear when people enjoy your work. I do not own Reign or any of its characters, although that would be fun! Thanks again! **


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